


let you be the captain tonight

by maurascalla



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: BDSM, Friendship, Humiliation, Impact Play, M/M, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-30
Updated: 2013-07-30
Packaged: 2017-12-21 20:12:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/904406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maurascalla/pseuds/maurascalla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After visiting a BDSM planet, Spock is curious about the practice. Jim offers him the chance to see what it's like.</p>
            </blockquote>





	let you be the captain tonight

**Author's Note:**

> This is a gift for Liz, who so many days ago said she wanted bossy!Bones and star gazing. Sorry, girl. It ended up being hardcore BDSM. Oops?

There are some planets that the Enterprise discovered that were fairly benign. The life on them, if there was any at all, was peaceful, with a vaguely similar culture, and receptive to contact. Jim liked those planets. When they encountered those planets, he was left smiling. He was happy and giddy and pleased with his job. Jim liked a good days work, and he liked it better when it came easily. 

Phrillex was not one of those easy-peasy planets, however. Phrillex and its people, the Phrill, test Jim's patience in ways he hadn't thought possible. It wasn't necessarily that they were hostile so much as they insisted that all Starfleet representatives adhere to their customs while planetside. The Phrill were a people deeply entrenched in their traditions. Which Jim could appreciate, really. It was just- when the Phrill outlined for him the behavior they expected while on planet, Jim nearly chocked on his own tongue. 

While Jim wasn't one to judge, their culture left him feeling nervous and apprehensive. He wasn't used to all the bowing and the scrapping. Or the leather. Jim had never seen so many leather clad beings in all his days. 

All of his away team, which consisted of Doctor McCoy, Commander Spock, two security guards, and the ship's historian, were expected to keep their eyes to the floor, their hands behind their backs. They were not allowed eye contact with any of the Phrillian Masters. Jim was only allowed that privilege due to his high rank and title. The Phrill were big on titles. 

He was developing a headache. 

“Captain,” Devos said. Their hand, which was large, purple, and covered in rings, was on the head of a smaller Phrillian kneeling beside him. Devos didn't look at the being at their feet, and hadn't at all since they began their discussion. Jim didn't look at them either. 

“Yes?” Jim tilted his head to the side with a winning smile. Despite his discomfort, Jim had managed to learn quite a lot about this new culture today, and had convinced Devos, who was the Grand Master of the Phrillian peoples, maintain contact with the Federation. He had also brought up the possibility of a working relationship between the two and was not met with resistance. Phillex, as it turned out, contained dilithium, and Jim wanted on that like white on rice. 

“Does your planet not have Masters and subservants?” 

Jim blinked, but kept his smile in place. “Not really no,” he said. “Why do you ask?”

“It is your crew, they seem... unpracticed.” Devos quirked an eyebrow, or at least, Jim thought they did. The Phrill had no discernible body hair to speak of. 

Jim turned to look at his away team. They were standing behind him, as per instructions, their hands clasped behind their backs and their eyes to the floor. Spock was very still, but his stance was wide, like he was prepared to spring into action, should Jim need him to. The security guards had a hard time keeping their hands off of their phasers, and the historian looked small and unsure of herself. Jim could tell she was unhappy with the planet and the beings on it. He couldn't really blame her. Bones, though he has managed to refrain from speaking, had not been able to keep his eyes to the floor. 

“Yeah, this is pretty new to most of us,” Jim conceded, turning back to Devos. The Grand Master smiled. Their teeth were sharp and nearly two inches long. 

“So you are no Master yourself, I take it?” Devos flexed the hand they had resting on the head of the still knelling Phrill. 

“No,” Jim admitted. 

“They let those without a Master's instinct serve in high level positions on your world?” Devos' tone was light, but Jim could sense a hostility that hadn't been there a moment ago. 

Jim shrugged. “What people get up in the bedroom is private on Earth,” he said, but added, “For the most part.”

Devos nodded, but didn't look particularly enlightened. 

“Captain, if I may,” the ship's historian began, careful not to speak too loudly or look up from the floor. Her hands remained behind her. It was a question, asking for Jim's permission to speak. He shifted uncomfortably.

“Yes, Ms. Lin, what is it?”

“It is my belief that the Phrill do not have males and females as we know them, but rather, Dominates and submissives likened to that of Terran BDSM culture,” Lin said. Jim suppressed a sigh. He'd thought as much. 

“I thought you said your Earth did not share the same culture as Phrillex?” Devos exclaimed, suddenly wary of Jim. 

“Thank you, Ms. Lin,” Jim said, before turning back to the Grand Master. “There are subcultures,” he said carefully, “Within the Terran general culture which parallel yours, but humans usually do not engage in powerplay to the extent found on Phillex.”

Devos lowered their raised hackles. Their hand, which had been tensed on the head of their Phillian armrest, eased until their fingers were once again splayed lazily. “Your Lin is right, Captain. To a certain extent. We do have males and females, but our levels of Instinct, to being a Master or being mastered, matter more in our society.”

“Good to know.” Jim smiled. It was good to know. It would keep them from making any egregious mistakes. 

“Surely though, you think of yourself as having more of the Instinct than not. You command many of your people.” Devos was trying to make sense of him within the confines of their culture, and Jim could understand that, but it did not do well to lie in diplomatic situations. As much as he'd like to. 

Jim turned slightly in his chair, under the guise of spreading out to get more comfortable. He looked over at Bones, who still couldn't keep his head down. Sighing, Jim looked Devos in the eye. 

“Not even a little,” he said with a smile, bright and cheerful. He maintained eye contact until Devos turned away. 

**

“God, I hate that place!” Lieutenant Lin groaned, shaking her arms out by her sides. 

“Fascinating,” Spock said mildly, one eyebrow cocked slightly higher than the other. “It would appear that you have too much of Phrillian 'Instinct' to enjoy being subservient for so long.” 

Jim laughed at Lin's stunned expression. “Spock, you can't just tell a girl she seems like a Domme.”

“I do not understand the usage of that word.”

“Dom, or Domme in this case, is short for Dominant, which is half of a Dominant/submissive relationship-” Lin couldn't help but rattle off the facts, being a historian. Jim watched her explain the basics of BDSM to his First Officer, who listened with rapt attention, as he did all new information. 

They began to walk out of the transporter room, still deep in conversation. Jim heard Spock say, just before the door swished closed, “We had something similar on Vulcan-”

With a chuckle, Jim looked around the room and found that only Bones remained. 

“20:00?” he asked, wiggling his eyebrows at his CMO. Bones nodded, then stalked out of the room. Being forced to keep his mouth shut for so long made McCoy grumpy, Jim could tell. 

With a happy sigh, Jim left the transporter and wandered back to the Bridge. 

**

The following morning, in the Officer's Mess, Spock sank down in a chair next to Jim's. 

Jim had been there for almost twenty minutes, and was still thinking about the night before, when Spock said, “We are friends, Captain?” 

“Yes.” Jim rolled his eyes. “Of course.” 

“And friends are amendable to giving advice of a... personal nature?” Spock absolutely did not fidget, but he did so in a way that screamed that he would like to, if he only knew how. 

“Yes,” Jim said again, warily. Cautious. 

“I find myself intrigued by Lieutenant Lin's description of a certain lifestyle found among Terrans, and I was hoping to learn more,” Spock said quietly. He leaned forward conspiratorially. “There is something like your 'BDSM' known to Vulcans, but we do not speak of it, and I have never had a partner who was so inclined.” 

Jim blinked, opened his mouth, and then blinked again. Finally he said “Are you asking me about sex stuff right now?”

“Yes,” Spock nodded. “I was interested by my conversation with Lieutenant Lin, but I could not ask many of the questions I sought answers to, as it would have been deemed unethical and unprofessional in nature.” 

“Why ask me, though?” 

“Because you are my only superior officer aboard this vessel; because you are my friend, and because I have heard rumors about your sexual adventurism.” 

Jim narrowly avoided dropping his head against the table. “Sexual adventurism,” he repeated. 

“Yes, I had assumed you had, at some point, participated in such a relationship,” Spock said, mild as ever. He continued with, “And while I am more of a visual or tactile learner, I find that I can acquire knowledge through auditory means just as efficiently.”

“Did you,” Jim paused for a moment to collect his thoughts. “Did you just proposition me?”

It was Spock's turn to blink in surprise. His eyebrows rose into his hairline, which on a Vulcan was quite an accomplishment. He sputtered incoherently before saying primly, “Captain, I am romantically involved with Lieutenant Uhura-”

“That's what I thought-”

“I was merely discussing my learning styles-”

“Which is why I thought it was weird-”

“I would never-”

“She would so kick my ass if- wait! Never?” Jim exclaimed, outraged. 

Spock shook his head, eyebrows still high on his forehead. “Aside from the fact that you are my Captain, you are also far too reckless. There is also the matter of your hair.”

“What,” Jim squawked, “is wrong with my hair?!”

“It is too short for my liking.” 

“Well, your hair is stupid!” Jim pointed to Spock's head. “'Infinite diversity in infinite combinations,' and only one haircut?!” 

“It is traditional.” 

“It's a bowl cut!” 

The pair sat in silence for a moment before Spock said, “In regards to the matter we were discussing?” 

Jim sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face. “I'll tell you later, Spock.”

That seemed to do the trick. They ate their breakfasts in relative silence before beginning Alpha shift. 

**

“Are you familiar with naturalistic observation?” Jim asked Spock the Tuesday following their trip to Phrillex. Spock, several of his science officers, and Lin had been planetside a few times since their first visit, but Jim had not. He found that the atmosphere of the planet did not suit him, and he was on doctor's orders not to return to the planet proper. 

“I am,” Spock relied. He moved one of his pawns forward, into a cluster of Jim's pieces. On Tuesdays, Jim and Spock played chess in the rec room on Deck 5. This was also the room where, on Tuesday nights, Keenser and Scotty drank and told their crewmen horror stories about Delta Vega. Jim hoped Spock would understand their need for subtlety. 

“Do you still have questions about the thing we talked about the other day? At breakfast?” Jim said carefully, avoiding Spock's eyes. 

“Yes, Jim.”

“My quarters at 19:45 hours, Mr. Spock.” 

**

Jim wasn't surprised when his clock struck 19:45 and there was a knock at his door. Spock was nothing if not prompt, and he was always excited by the prospect of learning something new.

“Come in,” Jim shouted from his bathroom. He was brushing his teeth, as dictated by his nightly routine. He heard his door woosh open and closed. Jim spat and rinsed out his mouth. He took a moment to straighten his standard issue undershirt and shorts, making himself presentable. When he exited the bathroom, Spock was standing in his room, hands tucked securely behind his back. If he was surprised by the captain's attire, he made no mention. 

“I feel the need to remind you that Nyota and I-” 

Jim laughed. “No, Spock. You're just going to watch, okay? Naturalistic observation, remember? You're going to sit right there-” Jim pointed to a chair he'd set up in the corner of the room, far away from anything else. “-and you're going to watch. If you say anything at all, Bones will stop and I will stop and you can leave if you want, okay?” 

“Doctor McCoy?” Spock asked, sounding as puzzled as he ever allowed himself. 

“Yeah, Doctor McCoy,” Jim said with a smile. “He's probably going to ignore you, but he might not. He just doesn't want you to talk. It'll throw off his groove.”

“I do not wish to 'throw off his groove,'” Spock agreed. “I will endeavor to embody the spirit of naturalistic observation.” 

“Good,” Jim said, nodding. He added, “You can talk until he gets here though.” When Spock did not say anything immediately, Jim set about preparing for Bones' arrival. He arranged Bones' favorite things on the table- a belt, some rope, a razor blade, a riding crop, ball gag, a roll of tape -in the order in which Jim would like them used. His standing commands are to do so, but Bones didn't always head Jim's wishes, or use everything on the table. Sometimes, he didn't use any of it at all. 

“I was under the assumption that there were more... artifacts involved,” Spock said, looking over the collection on the table. It wasn't a lot, Jim knew. He used to have more equipment before, but Bones wasn't a fan of all the fancy locking mechanisms or plugs Jim owned. He was especially upset about the spreader bar, for some reason. 

Jim shrugged. “This is what he likes,” he said. 

“Will you engage in coitus tonight?” Spock asked, the skin of his cheeks green. He was embarrassed.

“I don't know,” Jim laughed. “Maybe.”

Spock shook his head. “I do not wish to interrupt the night's activities, Jim.”

“In all honesty, Spock, Bones'll do whatever he wants. We talked about it a couple of times, and I've more or less left it up to his discretion,” Jim said, pouring a little whiskey in a glass before setting it down next the line of props on the table. “He knows all of my hard limits, and I know his. We've been doing this for a while.”

Taking his place next to the door, Jim said, “You should sit down. He'll be here any minute.” 

**

Bones didn't ask for permission to enter. He just walked in, strong and sure that he had the right. Jim stood next to the entrance, his hands gripping his elbows, drawn behind his back. When Bones saw him, he smiled. 

“Safe word?” he asked. 

“Enterprise.”

“When gagged?” 

“Snap my fingers twice without pause.”

“Good,” Bones declared with a pleased nod. 

With a shake of his shoulders, Bones closed his eyes. When he opened them, he regarded Jim with absolute contempt. He threaded his fingers through Jim's hair and pulled, forcing his head up. Jim's heart leaped into his throat. He was nervous and unsure of himself, hurriedly second guessing his attention to the routine. Bone was very strict about the routine, and if Jim didn't follow it, he wasn't allow to come. Sometimes for upwards of a week. 

“Open,” he ordered, and Jim opened his mouth. Bones turned his head to the right, then to the left, scrutinizing him. He shoved two fingers into his mouth, and scrubbed at his gums and teeth, evaluating their cleanliness. “Congratulation, boy. Close it.” 

Jim, having closed his mouth, waited for Bones to let go of him and move to ensure that he had done everything on his check list, but he did not. Instead, he pulled Jim further back, only to toss him forward, shoving him to the floor. He fell face first into the carpet, unable to unclasp his hands from behind his back in time to catch himself. He cried out as his cheek skidded across the carpet. 

From somewhere above him, Bones tutted. He nudged Jim with his foot. “Keep those arms locked,” he said. Jim tightened his hold on his elbows. 

Feeling a hand on his ankle, Jim froze. Bones lifted his ankle until it was high enough to inspect his toe nails. With his leg so high in the air, Jim's face chafed the carpet. Bones ran his hand down Jim's leg, feeling how smooth they were. He made a satisfied noise before dropping his leg to the floor. He repeated the process with the other limb. 

Bones' usual evaluations were not usually less violent, but weren't typically so humiliating. Jim was angry with Bones for embarrassing him in front of Spock like that. He was going out of his way to make this as horrible for Jim as possible. He growled lowly, but the other man just laughed and kicked him with his booted foot.

After running a finger along the ridges of his toe nails, Bones let Jim's leg fall to the floor. Without any warning, he grabbed Jim by his shirt and hauled him up into a kneeling position. “Hands,” he barked, and Jim let go of his elbows, allowing his arms to dangle down by his sides. He presented his hands to Bones a moment later, his eyes trained on the ground. 

Bones' fingers trail over his own and firmly examined them in their entirety, though the rules dictated that only his nails have to be trimmed and devoid of grime. With a nod of satisfaction, Bones pushed his hands away. He roughly dragged Jim's shoulder down. Once again finding himself face first in the carpet, Jim heard Bones say, “Ass up.”

Cheeks burning, eye shut tight with shame, Jim dropped down until his forearms and knees held most of his weight. He arched his spine, pushing his ass out. Bones pulled down Jim's shorts and made quick work of checking both the cleanliness and the extent of his prep work. Then he pushed down Jim's shirt, bunching it under his arm pits. Bones brushed his hands down his chest, testing its hairlessness. He knew he had been deemed worthy when Bones pulled his hands from his body and Jim's pants down to pool at his knees, leaving his ass and chest completely exposed. 

“Stay,” he said. Jim nodded, even though he knew he didn't have a choice in the matter. If he moved from that position, Bones would belt him. Not that that wasn't an appealing prospect, but he didn't think he could stand the disgrace of Spock seeing him being punished like some misbehaved child. 

The carpet snagged against this face. It pricked his skin uncomfortably. From somewhere above him, Jim heard Bones sip at the whiskey he'd left for him on the table. He settled down at the desk, leaving Jim on hold while he scrolled through the day's news on his PADD and drank his whiskey. 

Ten minutes went by, and Jim was vibrating in his skin. He felt like there were thousands of ants crawling over his arms and legs, begging to be shaken off. His muscles grew sore from the lack of motion, and he really, really wanted to move. He couldn't though, and not only because Bones had told him not to; He'd knelt on the carpet so long that the skin of his knees, forearms, and face were indented. Moving would cause all of the blood to rush back into the indentations, and it would be incredibility painful.

“I don't even know why I bother with you,” Bones said suddenly, but not unexpectedly. Jim heard the sound of his glass, probably empty, set on back on the table. Bones was done making him wait. “You aren't worth the trouble, kid.”

Jim nodded, because he wasn't, and he knew it. The fibers from the carpet rubbed his cheek until it was hot from the friction. He tried to move his face away from the floor, for some relief, but Bones' boot came down on his head, almost genitally, knocking him back. 

“Say it,” Bones prompted, prodding at Jim's face with his foot. 

“I'm not worth the trouble,” he said.

“Again.”

“I'm not worth the trouble!”

“It's so nice when a boy can appreciate how much he's worth.” Jim shuddered. Instinctively, he brought his elbows in closer to his body to shield himself from Bones' sharp words. The sudden departure of his skin from the fibers of the rug stung. 

“Clean my boots,” Bones said, “Until they shine.” Jim opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue. It made contact with Bones' shoes, and Jim could taste dust and shoe polish and a deep mortification in his own pleasure. 

Jim shifted his body, forgetting himself in his excitement. Bones stopped him with a well placed hand to the back of his neck, squeezing until he remembered not to move. 

“It's all you're good for.” Jim tongued his boots until the other man backed away. His shoes shone in the lights of lights of Jim's quarters, wet with his saliva. 

“I know,” he panted. 

Bones growled, irritated that Jim had spoken out of turn. He fisted Jim's shirt, gripping it so tightly that it clung painfully to his neck. Jim's muscles screamed, suddenly in use after so long without movement. He let out an involuntary shout, unable to stop himself before the noise slipped past his lips. 

“Did I say you could speak?” Bones said, punctuating his words with a sharp jerk at Jim's shirt, slamming him around like a rag doll, “Bad boy.”

“I'm sorry! I'm sorry!” Jim cried out. He was dizzy and felt like his world was crumbling down around him. His throat closed, choking him, making it almost impossible to breathe. He was on the verge of hyperventilating. Jim had wanted so badly to be good for Bones, to follow all of his rules, but he'd failed, just like he always did. He was a failure- not worth anything. Nothing at all. 

Almost as suddenly as it began, Bones stopped tossing Jim around by his clothing. He placed a hand at the back of Jim's neck, steadying him while the ground stopped spinning around his feet. Jim stood in the middle of the room with his shorts down around his ankles and his shirt hanging loosely on his body, made baggy by Bones' abuse. 

“If you were sorry, you wouldn't have done it.” Bones pinched the skin between Jim's shoulder blades and shoved him toward the table. He fell into it, tripping on his shorts. Bones tisked and pulled off Jim's pants and his shirt, leaving him completely naked. He shivered. 

“How many, do you think?” Bones asked, making a show of picking up the leather belt. He folded it in half before testing it in the air. “I asked you a question, boy.”

Jim exhaled sharply. “10?”

“10? Really?” Bones laughed. He rubbed the rounded end of the belt against Jim's lower back and down his ass. “How about we start with 20.”

Jim nodded, steeling himself for the blow. He stood with his feet firmly planted on the floor and his hands all but cemented to the top of the table. He felt Bones touch the belt to his skin, letting him know he was about to start. “Count,” he said, before cracking the belt. The leather bit into Jim's left ass cheek and he winced.

“One,” he ground out, his eyes screwed shut. His body involuntarily pushed itself forward, and into the table, trying to get away from Bones and his belt. Jim's dick was awkwardly shoved into the edge of the table and the friction felt amazing, but he was miffed that he was getting off on a piece of furniture in front of Spock. Jim hadn't looked in his direction once since Bones walked into the room, and didn't want to start now. 

With every thrashing, Jim panted out a number. His cock snagged painfully on the table. Jim's face was burning, and by the time he rasped out, “20,” and Bones lowered his belt arm, his ass was battered and he was so hard he could hardly see straight. 

Jim was granted only a moments reprieve between abuses. Bones rubbed the skin of his ass, lessening the stinging sensation, before he smacked both cheeks simultaneously. Jim nearly screamed. All semblance of control he had fell away completely. He dropped unceremoniously to the table, his knees gone weak and his footing lost. 

In the time it took for him to find his bearings, Bones must have slicked up his fingers, because one of them was suddenly inside of him. Jim was very thorough in his prep, and Bones had a second finger inside in no time at all. He leaned over Jim's back, forcing him down onto the table, smothering him under his weight. It was hard to breathe. Jim's breath came in shallow gasps- sharp, but steady. Not hyperventilating. Bones moved his fingers in and out of Jim's body with one hand while the other wrapped itself around his throat. 

“You like that he's watching you, don't you?” Bones said, his voice low and dangerous in Jim's ear. He wondered if Spock could hear him with impossibly excellent hearing, and hoped he couldn't. Bones pressed harder on his windpipe, his fingers pressing firmly inside of Jim, silently demanding an answer. When Bones dragged his fingers slowly, deliberately over his prostate, he nodded and nearly sobbed. 

“Yes, yes,” he wheezed, unable to breathe comfortably with Bones crushing his lungs and controlling his respiration with the hand on his neck. 

“Slutty boy,” Bones chided. He pulled his hand away from Jim's neck and slapped it across his mouth, shoving four fingers inside, spreading them out wide, forcing his mouth open. His thumb caught under Jim's chin and applied pressure to the rug burn he'd sustained earlier when Bones' threw him to the ground. He ran his tongue over Bones' fingers, whimpering occasionally when the fingers Bones had in his ass did something especially inspired. Jim moaned outright when Bones ruthlessly added in a third digit. After several minutes, when Jim didn't think he could take it anymore, Bones stilled completely. He pulled his fingers out of Jim's ass, and Jim felt the loss immediately. 

“Do you think you deserve to come?” He asked. 

“Yus,” he answered around Bones' hand. His tongue pushed itself between his fingers, caressing them clumsily. “Ple-us!”

“I'm sorry,” Bones said, “I couldn't hear you.”

“Ple-us, lep me come,” Jim begged, only barely managing to restrain himself from thrusting his hips back into Bones' hand. That action would not be well received. “Ple-us!”

“I don't know if you should,” Bones mocked. He pressed his fingers further back into Jim's mouth, down his throat, stopping just before his gag reflex kicked in. “Tell me you'll be a good boy.”

“I ill!” Jim promised, “Ill e a go-od ba-oy, I promise!” 

Bones dragged his nails down Jim's tongue before withdrawing his fingers from Jim's mouth. He wiped the saliva that had accumulated on his skin off on Jim's face. Jim scrunched up his nose, but otherwise didn't react. Bones stood up straight, allowing Jim to take in his first full breath since his beating. He missed the feel of Bones' weight on him, holding him down. He felt cold in Bones' absence. 

Bones grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and whirled him around. He pushed down on Jim's shoulder and said, “Knees.” Promptly, Jim sank down to his knees. He sat on his heels with his hands behind his back. The pressure of his feet on his ass, after his belting, was excruciating. 

“You get off after I do.” Bones ran a hand through Jim's sweaty hair, gripping it too tightly. Jim looked up at the other man and waited, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. Bones' eyes were hard and he looked monstrous. Jim wanted to make him happy. It felt like nothing in the world mattered more than Bones' satisfaction. 

“Use your mouth,” Bones commanded, “hands stay where they are. If they move, you aren't allowed to come until next time.” He pulled open his own pants and presented Jim with his cock. Jim opened his mouth eagerly and leaned forward on his knees. Bones laughed meanly, stepping away from Jim, just out of his reach. “Patience, boy.”

Jim rocked back into his original position, face flushed from his scolding. He sat with his ass on his heels and his hands behind him, mouth open and waiting. He blinked up at Bones and tried not to feel ridiculous. He was unsuccessful. 

Bones laughed again, dark and cruel. He stepped into Jim's space with his cock in hand. He rubbed it on Jim's face before shoving it into his mouth. Jim was careful to keep his teeth away from Bones' dick and relax the muscles in his throat. 

“Good boy,” Bones groaned, fingers threaded through Jim's hair. He tugged too hard, and Jim reveled in it. 

When Bones came, he clutched the back of Jim's skull and forced his cock as far back into Jim's throat as he could manage. The muscles in Jim's throat seized up, and he choked and sputtered around Bones' cock. By the time the other man was finished spilling into him, Jim's entire body felt hot and rough. He felt raw and used up. Bones grunted and tossed Jim off of him, staring down at him with a unreadable expression on his face. 

“You can finish yourself,” he said, “You earned it.” Shoulders sagging in relief, Jim took his own cock and gracelessly stroked himself to completion. 

**

Jim grimaced at the semen in his hand and wiped it off on his discarded shirt. “At least I didn't get it in the carpet this time,” he said to Bones, who had collapsed next to him on the floor. Bones laughed and pulled him in for side hug, one arm wrapped around his shoulders. They sat like that for a moment, Bones holding Jim and coming down from their high. 

“You did a great job, kid,” Bones said, squeezing him. “Really, good job.” Jim smiled brightly, taking Bones' hand in his own and squeezing back. 

“You did too.” He found his shorts on the floor next to the table and stuck his legs through the holes. Bones extracted himself from Jim while he slid them up over his ass, lifting himself awkwardly off the ground. “That part in the beginning, when you like, threw me to the floor? That was awesome.” 

Bones winced and touched Jim's chin. “Sorry,” he said, fingers brushing over the rug burn. “I'll regenerate that for you.”

“I'm not worried about it.” Jim shrugged, climbing to his feet. His ass was throbbing, and he flinched at the sensation. “Hell of an arm on you tonight,” he said conversationally. He grinned when he saw Bones flush. 

“Was it too much-”

“No, Bones, it was great,” Jim said honestly. He rested a hand on Bones' shoulder and smiled again. He felt so good right now, hurting and high on the endorphin. “You had to. I was starting to freak out, and we would have had to stop. So, thanks.”

“What was that about, anyway?” Bones asked. He launched himself to his feet and began putting away the belt and all of the things he'd had Jim lay out but didn't use. There was a moment of tense silence. Not wanting to share his short comings with his partner, but knowing he should, Jim cleared his throat awkwardly. 

“I was just spiraling into an abyss of panic over not being good enough, or something.” He doesn't look at Bones, but he could hear the other man moving around the room. There was a hand on his neck, fingers stroking the fine hairs at its base. He leaned into the touch. 

“Hey,” Bones said, his voice low and earnest. “You are always good enough, alright? Don't be thinking otherwise.” He ducked his head and made Jim look into his eyes. They held nothing but respect and adoration, and Jim's lips quirked into a half smile. 

“Thanks, Bones.” He said, trying to dodge any further scrutiny. It wasn't that Jim didn't believe him, because he did. He was the youngest captain in Starfleet. He saved the Federation. Twice! He wasn't a failure, even if he was sort of a fuck-up. He just couldn't handle all of the blatant praise all at once. Bones nodded, like he was expecting that, and hugged Jim. His uniform scratched Jim's bare chest, and his hands were warm on his back. It felt really nice, and Jim found himself grinning again. 

“I'm going to take a shower,” Bones said when they pulled away from each other. “I think you should have one too. You stink like sex.” Jim laughed pleasantly and turned away from Bones. 

“We're done,” he told Spock after Bones had made his way into the bathroom. Spock sat in his chair, back in the corner, looking like he hadn't moved since he sat down. “You can talk now.”

Spock opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He gave his head a little shake before trying again. 

“Is it always so,” he paused, searching for the right word. “Violent?”

Jim shrugged. “For us? Sometimes. If either of us needs it to be. For other people, it isn't always like that.” 

“I am aware of the variations,” Spock said after a lengthy pause. “I believe I was just shocked to see someone behaving so harshly to your person.”

“It's alright, Spock.” Jim shrugged again. He picked up his dirty shirt and tossed it into his laundry basket by the bathroom door. After nights like tonight, he didn't like to make Yeoman Rand take his clothes down to the laundry. He was sure to do it himself. “So, what did you think?”

Spock clenched his hands into fists before relaxing them and resting them on his thighs. “It was interesting, Jim.”

“Just interesting?” Jim teased, taking a seat at his desk. He blanched when his ass hit the chair, but sat down anyway. 

“Is Doctor McCoy going to see to your injury?” Spock asked, looking as worried as he would allow himself. Jim waved away his concern. 

“Yeah, he'll take care of it when you leave,” Jim answered dismissively. “Now tell me,” he leaned forward in his chair, smiling, “what did you think?”

“I believe I already said-” 

“No, Spock, I meant: did you like it?” 

Jim watched Spock's impassive face eagerly, interested to hear his friend's verdict. Spock quirked an eyebrow before saying, very carefully, “It was an informative experience. I will have to take what I have learned here and run some experiments.” 

“Yeah, sure,” Jim laughed. “I think you'd be more into rope work or like, sensory deprivation, than what Bones and I do.”

Spock tilted his head and his hands curled into fists for the second time. “Thank you for this educational opportunity, Jim,” he said. He stood swiftly and with determination, straightening his shirt as he went. “I will have to converse at length with Nyota.” 

“You do that, bud.” Jim smiled and climbed out of his desk chair. He patted Spock on the shoulder. “She'll make a great Domme,” he added, his tone light and casual, but he was watching Spock for a reaction. When the line of his shoulders stiffened, Jim silently congratulated himself on being able to read his First Officer so well. 

“I believe it was you who once instructed me not to assume the levels of dominance exhibited in human females,” Spock replied. His voice was as steady as ever, but he turned away from Jim like he was embarrassed by Jim's astute discovery. 

“It's not a shameful thing, Mr. Spock,” Jim said in all seriousness. Spock nodded, but did not look entirely convinced. “Look at it this way: we can be catty subs together! Won't that be fun?” Jim poked him in the chest, trying to get him to brighten up a little. 

“Vulcan's are not catty, Captain.” Spock all but huffed, offended on behalf of his race. Jim raised an eyebrow in intimation of his First Officer. 

“No, never,” he said sarcastically. 

Spock shot him one of those looks that told Jim he didn't understand him and probably never would. “I fail to see-”

“Don't worry about it, Spock.” Jim gestured to his door, making a shooing motion with his fingers. “I really need a shower and like, three rounds of hypos. My throat feels like it got into a fight with the business end of a lirpa and lost.” 

“Fascinating analogy,” Spock murmured before taking his leave. 

When the door swished closed behind Spock, Jim took off his shorts and flung them into the laundry hamper. Then he walked into his bathroom to join Bones in his shower. No use wasting water. 

**

Three days later, Jim was eating his dinner in the Officer's Mess. He was sitting alone, waiting for Bones to get off his shift so they could go drink too much brandy and gossip about the crew, when his communicator went off. 

“Kirk here,” he said around a mouth full of replicated salad. 

“Uhura requesting your presence on Observation Deck Five.” Uhura's voice came through the plastic and metal of the communicator with perfect clarity. Jim resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He didn't have time for the Uhura-and-Spock show tonight. He just wanted to make fun of the Phrill with his vaguely xenophobic CMO, and get too drunk to walk back to his own room. 

“Acknowledged,” Jim answered. “Kirk out.”

With one last longing look at his dinner, Jim scrapped it and made his way out of the mess. 

**

Uhura was waiting for him on the observation deck with Spock by her side. They stood with their backs to the door, staring out at the stars. Jim cleared his throat to let them know he'd arrived. 

“You rang?” He said, leaning against the far wall, near the door. He crossed his arms over his chest. 

“I wanted to thank you, Captain,” Uhura said, turning around to face him. She had her arms behind her back, one hand grasping the elbow of the other arm. She wasn't smiling, but her eyes sparkled in the low light of the observation deck. 

“For?” Jim asked. He was fairly certain he knew. He suppressed a smirk. 

“You know what for. Just- thanks.” She nodded at him before touching a hand to Spock's shoulder. They left together quietly, Spock trailing after Uhura like a puppy. 

Jim nodded and smiled. He felt a sense of satisfaction. Like he'd done a good deed. He whistled a happy tune as he walked back through his ship. He was late meeting Bones, but it was worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> fuckingnyota.tumblr.com


End file.
